Spoonful: A Gathering of Stone Soup Poets

An extension of Cambridge's Stone Soup Poetry Venue.

For Patricia Fillingham

Photo by Debra Cash


Made by the war
Spitfires that shot down

You caught words like mice
A calico cat, in a chimney.

--Gordon Marshall

She was a friend

We sat next to each other every week
We talked and shared. It was neat.
I remember when she came to Stone Soup
She had found a place to be in a group
She told me she was lonely with her husband gone
It's nice to have a friend, you feel you belong
She was telling me how she would publish my poetry
She didn't like the way I put poems in the center
Put them to the side, she'd say
And I'd say I like them that way
She always made sure she didn't bother me
Too close or blocking the way in front of me
She read that poem about her husband many times
Going to heaven finding someone else to love
Telling us that sometimes we don't know the here after
It's a mystery, life is a mystery, it was humorous
Her whole demeanor was somewhat curious
I always understood her poetry, it was clear
Simple and easy to understand all the time
A lot of poets don't make any sense
I cannot make out what they are saying
Or what the message is
But Patricia was always on the money
She will be missed by us at Stone Soup
We always remember our poets, always
In a way, she is here to stay with us

--Bill Perrault

Chosen Spirit of the Stars

To be one with sky
like you are now
speaking poetry to us still
through rain, sun and wind,
and what words were once lost
between us -- are now flowing freely
like a river,
through the grass and weeds,
and light and dark
your intimate stories
being told to the clouds,

my lively cats still jump
every time the front door opens,
for they believe it is you
you were a chosen spirit
to paint the sky with your poetry
so we cannot cry
old life pours away as new life
fills the soul
so your name Patricia is everywhere
and your blue eyes still shine like stars
dreaming up a whole new world.

--Deborah M. Priestly

For Patrica Fillingham

That Lovely Kind Face
The Voice.
The Words.
The Humor.
The Love.

I appreciated her so fully.
She had my attention locked.
So Present in the Poem.

And she could surprise!
Sexy thoughts.
To remind us that this is a Woman who had Lived.
Lived, Lived, Lived.
Fully. Honestly.

That Bent Body was ready to fly.

--Lynne Sticklor

Patricia Says
A found poem

This is your aged parent, or what’s left of her.
How are you, my pet?
There’s almost always a Walnut Street.
There’s almost always a School Street.
In New York City it’s so easy to find your way around!
That looks like an old mill.
I had a yellow lab and she and my grandmother were the two nicest people I ever met.
They took me into his room and showed me his bed and said “Daddy’s gone.”
I was young and stupid. I wouldn’t have divorced Bluebeard.
Isn’t that a beautiful tree?
Isn’t that a beautiful cloud?
I didn’t know there was a restaurant on this street. Did I like it? Good!
You don’t know how grateful I am to you.
I do love you.
Never underestimate the power of poetry.
It wasn’t the worst thing that could have happened.
Amusez-vous bien.

--Debra Cash


It’s always when I get on the computer,
That you jump up into my lap.
Before I can even get the screen up,
Papa, I want smileys
So I tell you
As I have often told you
That the smileys are on their way-
They’re in their cars now,
And driving to our house.
Maybe they’re just stuck in traffic.
At long last (finally!) the screen does come up,
And I move the arrow over to
The yellow smile on the toolbar and click the mouse
And the box comes up with all your smileys.
I want the Kitty smileys, Papa.
I go to the animal section of the box and click it with the mouse
And all the cat smileys come up
And we scroll down to the bottom
To see every last one
(For the umpteenth ging quin killionth time);
Then there are the puppy smileys,
                                               The bird smileys,
                                                                 The fish smileys.
We go through them all
(Yes, umpteen ging quin killion times)
Like touring a virtual cartoon zoo.
I want the monkey smileys, Papa
But I thought you didn’t like the monkey smileys!?
Yet we see them anyway
I want the elephant smileys, Papa
I bring them up
I want the big elephants, Papa
How are we going to get a big elephant out of the computer?
Through the door, Papa
And you pointed to the smiley box on the screen
You remembered the story that I read to you on Christmas
About the girl who brought home the elephant
To grow up in her house*
We watch together as the little yellow smiley climbs up onto the elephant
And slides down its trunk, over and over again
Ging quin killion times.

* Anna’s Elephant by Patricia Fillingham

--Edward S. Gault